


The Other You

by FlamesRise



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Blood Kink, Choking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masochism, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Minor Violence, Post-Canon, Self-Harm, Two Minds One Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamesRise/pseuds/FlamesRise
Summary: Komaeda can't let go of the past, so he keeps longing for someone else who's just the same as him.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 1
Kudos: 123





	The Other You

_Ha. Haha. Hahahahahaha._

Komaeda wasn't entirely sure how he'd got here. Sitting on the floor of the run-down warehouse, watching intently, trying to force his eyes to focus on the trail of blood dripping down his arm and onto cold stone. 

His head spun, maybe from the shock of pushing his already weak body past its limits, maybe from relief, giddiness, finally getting the sensation he'd been _craving_ ever since he'd woken up. It took him back to that dark place, the one he only had vague, disjointed memories of. 

The way he'd felt back then, that place he'd been in - it was comforting, warm, and he probably should have been far more horrified by that than he was. That wasn't him, after all. Not the _real_ him. 

Or was it? 

Maybe this was how things were supposed to be all along. After all, he'd never felt more alive than when he was plummeting into the depths of despair. He'd never felt more free than when he was fighting for something, a greater purpose than his own pathetic wishes and desires.

It was so much quieter than the last time he'd been here. He could hear each drip hitting the ground beneath him, could hear his own breathing as it grew unsteady, almost hysterical. There was no music. No voices, not the ever-present one inside his own mind nor the voices of the others panicking that he remembered all too clearly. 

The trickle of red from the long, gaping wound seemed to slow down, go cold. Even as he admired his work, he knew it wasn't enough. He needed more. His hand shook, perhaps out of fear, or maybe excitement, as he reached for the knife again. 

One more cut. Then another. And another. The rush of adrenaline flooded his mind, washing everything away. His thoughts bleeding together, merging into a warm, syrupy mess. No beginning, no end. There was nothing left but this one single moment, right here, right now.

His body moved on its own, satisfying lines of red appearing as he dragged the blade across his skin. It didn't even hurt anymore. It didn't feel like anything, but he still kept going, deeper each time. Deeper, deeper, deeper. Sinking, falling into despair. 

He didn't even register the sound of panicked footsteps approaching. 

The next thing he was aware of was a rough grip on each of his wrists, slamming them back against the wall, the knife falling from his hands as he cried out in shock. The impact of fresh wounds against ice-cold walls sent a jolt of pain through the numbness he'd felt there before, and _that_ felt good, so good that he had to force himself to hold back laughter, as he tried to focus on the words in his ears, the figure crouched in front of him. 

"Komaeda-" the words came out between clenched teeth. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?" Though his vision was still blurred, and the warehouse was far too dark, he could make out a pair of eyes, glowing red and hazel, positively _burning_ with rage. 

It was far too much for him to hold back anymore. He laughed, and laughed, turning hysterical, gasping for breath inbetween fits of mirth. The sound grew to a deafening volume, filling the empty space around them, echoing off solid walls that suddenly felt much closer to him than they really were. The grip on his wrists grew tighter, so tight it felt like it might crush him, break his bones, and that thought only made him even more delirious, more laughter spilling forth uncontrollably.

It was cut off by the impact of a fist against his chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs, leaving him wheezing, chest burning as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Ha- h- you- finally- hk- did- what I asked-" 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you'd better have a good fucking explanation for all this." 

He looked up, still fighting for air as cold eyes bore down into him, as if they were staring straight through him, trying to reach into the depths of his mind somehow. He thought about breaking away from the grip still holding his right arm above his head, but he was far too weak to even try. 

"Hi-Hinata, I've told you- plenty of times- you can hurt me in any way you want- if it makes you happy." That stare never faltered. "You can even kill m-"

" _Enough."_ Komaeda wondered if he looked as different to his usual self as Hinata did right now. Maybe he also felt like he was looking into the eyes of a stranger. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it a long time ago." 

" _Kamukura,_ " it came out as a whisper, and the impulse to reach out and touch the other boy's face, make sure he was real, gave him the strength he needed to lift his mutilated arm. "Do you understand now? He's still inside you. You can't escape it- I can't escape it, I needed-" his fingertips grazed over soft skin, and it seemed to spark some sort of emotion in the other's eyes, a flicker of doubt perhaps. 

"But I'm- I'm not-" he appeared to lose himself in thought for a moment, and Komaeda felt the grip on his arm loosen a little. 

He took the chance to push him backwards, diving for the knife by his side, using the short opening he had as Hinata laid there on the ground, shocked and dazed, to glide it across his own wrist. It sent a tingle down his spine, and he couldn't help but smile as his eyes met the other's. 

"Isn't it beautiful? Kamukura-kun would have thought so." The expression of unmistakable conflict on his face told Komaeda everything he needed to know.

"You… you're fucking crazy." His words were meaningless, empty platitudes, considering the fact that he never looked away. Staring in fascination at blood pooling on pale white, not even flinching as Komaeda took the knife to his skin again. Slower this time, gasping a little as he savoured every moment, feeling it all. 

"Wait-" it wasn't a cry of protest this time, wasn't coming from a place of misguided concern, and Komaeda couldn't help but smile wider at the knowledge that he'd got exactly what he wanted. Hinata - if this even _was_ Hinata - pulled himself back up, took Komaeda's arm gently, still transfixed by what he saw as pools of red spilled over. 

Kamukura had always managed to surprise him. He gasped, louder this time, as he lowered his head to the wounds, tongue flicking out to taste the blood, running along the edge.

Hinata would never have done something like this. 

He revelled in the knowledge, the _proof_ , that he wasn't gone, that Hinata- _Kamukura_ , was exactly the same as him. 

He couldn't forget either, couldn't simply erase the past.

Komaeda let out an involuntary moan when the tongue brushing against his skin sunk deeper into the open wound, rough surface against exposed nerves sending a shiver through his entire body. It was _thrilling._

It burned in a deliciously satisfying way as his tongue slid along the length, pushing deeper, harder, making his head spin with pain and pleasure. A warm tingle travelled up his arm, flooding him with overwhelming sensation. 

_This_ was what he needed. It was everything all at once. All the hurt, all the joy, the rush of being really, truly, _alive._ Everything good and bad bleeding together in a fucked up mess that made him feel _real._

"Ka-Kamukura, please-" he hadn't even realised just how fucked up he was until he heard his own voice, coming out as a pleading whine. The boy in front of him lifted his head, red eye glowing brighter than before, smudges of blood decorating his lips, and Komaeda felt like he might die right there at what a glorious sight it was. 

"Pathetic." The harsh whisper sent another shiver of pleasure through him, and he whined out of desperation. He was incredibly lucky that Kamukura was so good at reading him, because he was sure he'd completely lost the ability to form words at this point, taken over entirely by the desire and _need_ coursing through his veins. 

All he could do was moan unashamedly as Kamukura's hands moved swiftly, unfastening his pants and pulling him out. His cheeks would be burning right now if he only had the presence of mind to feel embarassed at how hard, how desperate he was already. 

The other boy's hand worked him expertly, not even taking the time to tease him, make him beg, something he might have been a little disappointed by under different circumstances. Right now, he was already way beyond it, moaning far too loud at such simple touch, at the feeling of _relief_ washing over him for the second time today.

It didn't take much before he was panting harshly, shivering at every stroke, and when Kamukura wrapped his other hand around his throat, he lost his mind completely. Static filled his ears, every part of him completely oversaturated by the sheer intensity of just _feeling_ so much all at once. When those fingers squeezed the sides of his neck so hard it made his head throb, he lost all composure, falling over the edge in such a graceless way as he screamed silently. 

His entire body shuddered, mind going blank, twitching all over as skillful hands continued to work, push him further, drag him down even lower. Kamukura had turned him into a shivering mess, crumpled in a heap on the floor, as he tried in short gasps to fill his lungs with air before he passed out. 

Finally, he backed off, leaving him space to recover. Komaeda shut his eyes, head falling back against the wall, as he let himself drift away for a moment, strung up somewhere on the edge of consciousness, far away from reality. 

Losing control felt so wonderful.

He was pulled back down to earth by the feeling of someone tucking him back into his pants carefully, gently cleaning away the mess on his clothes, and he winced slightly when he felt those warm hands wrap something around his injured arm. 

"What are you-" 

"Shhh. It's okay." He blinked his eyes open to see white cloth being tied around his wounds by a boy who looked significantly more exposed than before. 

"No- it'll ruin your shirt- you can't-" He was sure he heard a soft chuckle in response. 

"Sounds like you're back to normal. Well, for you anyway-" the careful hands tending to him froze for a second. "Shit, that's not what I meant, I'm sorry, I-"

"You really shouldn't worry about offending me, Hinata-kun. You're far kinder than I deserve already."

Concerned, sad eyes met his gaze. "Am I?"

Komaeda wondered whether he meant the kind part, or the Hinata part. 

"Oh, and uhh- sorry for the whole... punching you thing." 

Komaeda laughed. He'd forgotten all about it already, it was certainly the least memorable part of everything that had just happened. 

He felt like he'd probably be horrified at himself later, beg for Hinata's forgiveness at the way he'd behaved, how he must have worried him, hurt him, but still, _but still-_

He couldn't quite bring himself to regret any of it. 

He became aware of a long silence between them as Hinata stared at the knife still laying on the ground. 

"You take it. Evidently I can't be trusted." That seemed to satisfy him, as he breathed a sigh of relief. 

_I can always find another one._

He pushed that thought away, letting himself stay in the moment, as Hinata helped him unsteadily back onto his feet. His arm really was starting to hurt now, as the manic frenzy of despair he'd been in not too long ago subsided. 

"We're going to have to take a detour to get medical supplies on the way back. I don't know why you felt the need to do this here-" his voice faded out mid-sentence, and Komaeda felt a twinge of guilt at the sadness in his eyes. "Oh." 

All he could do was force a smile, and try to calm the self-destructive thoughts rising up like bile in the back of his throat. 

As much as loving Hinata hurt, as much as he couldn't escape the knowledge that all he'd ever be able to do was destroy him, fuck up his life, at least now he knew there was someone else still there, someone who understood him, someone who was the same as him. 

_I miss you already, Kamukura._

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I should write something that's super emotional and deep and not just some kinky sex stuff 
> 
> My brain: but imagine Komaeda getting turned on by Kamukura licking his cuts
> 
> And so whatever the hell this is happened


End file.
